


Anatomy of a Murder

by Emma_ChrisWay



Category: Anatomy of a murder
Genre: Duke Ellington, Fan Soundtracks, Gen, Jazz - Freeform, New York, New York City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_ChrisWay/pseuds/Emma_ChrisWay
Summary: Inspired by Duke Ellington's soundtrack to Anatomy of a Murder
Kudos: 2





	Anatomy of a Murder

Paul strolls down the street, smirking. Tilt of the hat.  
He speeds up, admiring his reflection in the shop windows.  
Twirls his umbrella.  
‘Looking good, Pauly.’

He grabs a newspaper from a street stall. Shakes it open to the back pages.  
'Damn. Yankees lost again'. The roll of cash is burning a hole in his pocket.

Folding the paper under his arm, he twists around to follow a woman walking hurriedly in the opposite direction.  
‘Hey, baby, what you doing out in the cold?’  
‘Minding my own business.’ She quickens her pace.  
'Hey, not so fast. Let me buy you a coffee.'  
'Add a whisky and I’ll join you.'

I know just the place. He guides the stranger down the stairs into O’Finnegan's bar  
'Hey Seamus. Coupla Chivas over here.'  
His companion is unimpressed. 'I had something more stylish in mind.' 

'It’s not safe round these parts, sugar cheeks. We’re safe here. The owners ... know me.'  
'I gotta get going,' she whispers as she climbs down from her stool, turning to check her reflection in the Irish themed mirror.  
'Woah woah, I’ll take you somewhere nice. Let’s go.'

As they emerge blinking into the daylight, Paul bellows: 'Taxi!'  
'Please, just drop me at Macy’s. I gotta meet somebody.'  
'OK. Forget the taxi. I’ll walk you round there.' He puts his arm around her shoulder.  
'That’s better. The air is so cooling.' She sighs.

Paul stares at her. 'Who you meeting? I know everyone in these parts.'  
Cars whizz past and she is forced to raise her voice over the rumble.  
'You do not know this person, believe me.'

They stop just around the corner from Macy's doors. 'Well we’re here. I guess this is goodbye.'  
'I don't know you. But, I’d like to,' Paul mutters.  
'OK. Wait here.'  
'Here, take my card. Just in case.' She crumples the card in her palm before hastily stuffing it into her pocket. 

Within minutes, she returns breathless, panic rising in her voice.  
‘She wasn’t there.'  
'You OK toots? You look like you seen a ghost?'  
'Someone just trampled all over my grave.'

'Time for that whisky? Settle your nerves.'  
'Yeah, I could do with a drink,' she stammers. 

'This is more your kind of place. Classy broad like you... The Velvet Rope’  
A gentle rhumba plays through a battered speaker. 'Hey Seamus, coupla Chivas over here.'

But she barely looks up. Doesn’t seem to hear or care about Paul's poor sense of humour.  
Paul takes a breath.  
'Let me help. See my card... Paul O’Malley, PI. And you are...?'  
'Just a girl who has lost everything. My name's Jane,' she says.  
'I was so close. She was going to hand over the papers.  
My life was gonna change for good.'

'Papers?' Paul leans forward, his interest growing.  
'The proof that he’s a fraud and a killer. Enough to land him a lifetime in jail. But he was there ... In Macy’s.'  
'In cahoots, eh?’ Paul mutters.

She ignores him and continues to talk to herself. 'His coolness was chilling.  
I hadn’t seen him since I walked out. I had been biding my time. Waiting to ruin him.'

'Sounds like you’ve been steamrollered, toots. And if there’s one thing I don't like.... it’s a steamroller.'

'Can ... Can you help?'  
'Sure thing. Let’s go back to Macy's'  
'But I ain’t gotta lotta dough.'  
'This one's on me. I already got lucky at the track today.  
I feel lucky tonight too.'

'Thanks Paul. I feel as if I have known you forever,' Jane says, weakly.  
'You’ll have seen me around. Let’s go. So, what’s the guy’s name?'

'Hey, slow down. These heels are hard to walk in. His name's Jack.'

'Oh, it has started to rain. Here, take my coat. Jack, eh. if I had a dime for all the Jacks....'

'Thanks. It’s very heavy, this coat.'  
'Yeah. Just don't look in the pockets.'  
'Actually, you can have it back. I don’t mind a bit of rain.'

The doorman heaves open the door and they enter, shaking off the raindrops.  
'Hey, buddy. Seen a coupla wise guys?'  
Paul slips him a bill from the roll in his pocket.  
'They went out back. With a girl.'

'Let’s go toots.'  
Paul and Jane fight past legions of squabbling kids and exasperated parents to reach the back door.  
'It's locked,' she squeals.  
'Hang on.' He reaches inside his coat for a crowbar. ‘This’ll do’  
'That explains a lot,' says Jane, a weak smile spreading across her face. 

'Quick. We don’t have long...' 

'There they are!' shouts Jack.

'Run! Jack, you’re not getting away this time.'  
Jack turns slowly.

'Paul?'  
'Jack, we meet again. I knew you’d never change. Let’s go to that Irish joint and sort this out. You shoulda quit the game when I did. Go straight.'  
Jack shudders with rage, clenching his fists. 'Straight? Is that what you call it? Still carrying a crowbar, I see.'  
'Tools of the trade Jack. For dealing with people like you.'

'Now give this nice lady her papers. You know I know this caper. I came up with it, remember?'  
'Refresh my memory, why don’t you.'  
'Jackie, back when we was kids we ran this game. But then, the incident....'  
'You ran away.' Tears spring to his eyes.  
'Not fast enough, Jackie. Not fast enough. Five years in Sing Sing. Now, give this nice lady her papers and we’ll go and get that whisky.'

'I don’t have them. And if I did I wouldn’t hand them over. They will be my ruin.'  
‘So, who has them?’  
'You tell me. You were there, I saw you. You never did forgive me, Paul. But we were just kids.'  
'I’ve been waiting for this moment for six long years Jackie.'  
'Why make me wait? I had done so well for myself. Booted out this little tart and made a name for myself. Those papers don’t prove anything.”

'We’ll let the cops decide that eh?' Paul is smiling again now.  
'You. Gave. Them. To. The. Cops?'

Jack falls to his knees.  
'I kept cell number 655 nice and clean for you Jackie. Your turn now, my brother.  
You always were trouble. Kicking me out of the pram  
Ah, here’s officer Krupke now. Officer, it all went to plan. Take him away.'

'I guess I had it coming. But don’t blood count for nothing?'  
'Bad blood, Jackie. Bad blood.'  
And what about her....' spits Jack.

'Well, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.'

Paul twirls his umbrella. Walks off whistling. Tilt of the hat. Admiring his reflection.

ENDS


End file.
